


What Lies Within

by Nevanna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Jekyll (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1250893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Jackman twins have been accepted at a school for wizards, and both they and their parents must face the unanswered questions of the past and prepare for an unpredictable future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Lies Within

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for Showvillain, and posted on 9/25/11. **Warning** for _Jekyll_ spoilers.
> 
> Special thanks to Valravnsown for being my first reader.

The letters arrive on a moonless night in early summer. When Eddie charges downstairs on Monday morning, still wearing his pajamas printed with laser-wielding robots, he’s waving one of the cream-colored envelopes like a flag. The seal has already been broken.

Claire is still half asleep, and it takes her a moment to comprehend the emerald-green letters on the back: _Mr. E. Jackman, The Bedroom at the Top of the Stairs,_ and their address, which is supposed to be unlisted. There’s no stamp or postmark. “Where did this come from?”

“They just turned up in our window!” Eddie is grinning as if it’s Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one. She knows that grin all too well, doesn’t think she’ll ever forget it, and is always a bit unnerved to see it on her ten-year-old son’s face. “Harry got one, too. Read it, read it!”

Claire does. She takes a careful swallow of coffee, and then reads it over again. The letter is printed in the same green ink on the same heavy parchment.

_Dear Mr. Jackman,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…_

“Say we can go?” Eddie’s eyes are bright. “Please?”

\-- 

_Claire always knew that her boys were special. The problem was, other people knew it, too._

_The four of them shared a hotel room in Edinburgh, and she was the last one awake. She couldn’t fully comprehend how her family could rest after the horrible day they’d had, but she had heard and seen so many incredible things in the past twenty-four hours that she was beyond surprise. The next day, there would be messes to clean up and stories to exchange and plans to make. A few weeks from or months from now, she might be able to process everything she’d learned about herself and the man she loved, and consider what it might mean for their children._

_For tonight, they were alive, and together again, and that was all that mattered._

\--

Hogwarts School sends a representative to call on them. She greets each of the boys by name, explains that it’s part of her job to acclimate non-magical families to the “wizarding” world, and extols what she calls “the wonders of a magical education.”

Eddie wants to know if she’ll show them some magic, if he can demonstrate his new trick with the floating dishes (he promises that he won’t drop any this time), if he’ll be able to turn other students into toads if they annoy him. Harry wants to know if the school has hobbits and elves as well as wizards, as if that would make him less nervous about leaving home.

Claire has been looking over the reading list. Her lips form the words _Potions, Transfiguration, Dark Forces._ “How dangerous is this ‘magical education’ you’re offering?”

When their guest speaks again, her voice is very calm and even, and she sounds a whole lot less like some sort of religious evangelist recruiting for a cult. “Trust me, Mrs. Jackman, it’s much safer than letting your children’s powers run unchecked.”

\--

That night, when Claire passes by the twins’ room ( _The Bedroom at the Top of the Stairs_ , she thinks to herself), she hears the tail end of a hushed conversation. “…liked it when she talked about playing sport on broomsticks,” Eddie is saying. “How about you?”

“I thought that turning people into toads was going to be your favorite bit,” Harry reminds him.

“I keep changing my mind. It doesn’t matter, anyhow.”

“Why not?”

“Because Mum and Dad won’t let us go. You heard them asking all those stupid questions: whether it was dangerous and if they could visit and all that. They’re scared.”

“Of us?” Harry’s voice has dropped so low that she can barely make it out, and she doesn’t wait to hear his brother’s answer.

Downstairs, Tom is sitting at the table, reading over the letter and the enclosed list for what must be the fifteenth time. When he first saw the letters, he asked if she thought that they were real. She pointed out that he was hardly one to talk about what could or couldn’t be easily explained. “If this is a ruse, it’s a very clever one,” he says now. 

“Do you think so?” she demands. “What better way to lure Harry and Eddie away from us than to promise them a magical adventure full of spells and dragons and giant lollipops?”

“The Klein and Utterson Institute agreed to leave us alone, and even if they changed their minds, they don’t need to create an arcane conspiracy. They’re well equipped with one of their own, or haven’t you forgotten?”

“Not for a second,” Claire assures him.

“They could easily send dear old Granny” – Tom’s voice is very bitter – “to collect the boys from school, or someone could abduct them on a class trip.“

“They don’t go on class trips anymore, and whose idea was that?”

“I’m not saying that I don’t want to keep them safe – you know that – but - ”

“You’re thinking of sending them away, aren’t you?” Claire says flatly. “Forget about Klein and Utterson. What if this school doesn’t really want to help as much as they say they do?”

“I _knew_ it.” 

They both turn their heads. Harry is standing in the doorway, scowling. “Eddie was right,” he continues. “You’re not going to let us go.” His voice is rising, louder than they’re used to hearing it. “You never let us do anything!”

He’s very nearly shouting when the curtains catch fire.

\--

_Four years ago, after their lives had started to settle down after exploding for the second or third time, Eddie spent a whole day insisting that he was Harry, and vice versa. Their teacher asked them to stop, more than once, and ended up keeping them after school._

_Claire left work early to collect them, her heart hammering in her chest for the entire drive. “She didn’t believe that we swapped places,” Harry said on the way home. “But you believe us, right, Mummy?”_

_“I believe you.” She glanced in the rearview mirror. “You’re back the right way around now, aren’t you?” They nodded. “If this is something that you can control, then that’s what I want you to do. The two of you can do something that nobody else can, and from now on, I don’t want you to talk about it with anybody except Daddy or me. We both love you very much, and we don’t want the bad soldiers to come back for you. You don’t want it either, right?”_

_“They can’t hurt us,” Eddie insisted. “Uncle Billy will stop them.”_

_Claire swallowed hard. “Just promise me,” she said firmly. “It’ll be our secret.”_

\--

They’re supposed to buy school supplies in a street that is not pictured on maps and would probably be invisible by satellite. It can be reached from an alley behind a shabby-looking pub that Claire didn’t even notice until Eddie pointed to the sign above the door. “The Leaky Cauldron, just like the lady said! Let’s go!”

Harry is even quieter and more hesitant than usual, and has been ever since the curtains incident. Claire managed to reach the fire extinguisher before the flames could do too much damage, but he’d already curled up under the table, trying to make himself as small and harmless as possible. 

The decision was made in that moment.

Diagon Alley is lined with shops selling books and sweets, others that look like they might sell nothing but owls or impressive-looking broomsticks, and not a few windows that, she can’t help but notice, are empty or boarded up. The people moving to and fro are of all shapes, sizes, colors, and ages. Some of them are dressed normally, but others are wearing colorful robes or sweeping cloaks. 

She doesn’t know where to look first, so she consults the sheaf of papers in her hand: the booklist, a map, and a set of instructions for changing their money to the currency that witches and wizards use. As they climb the steps of Gringotts bank, Harry tugs at her sleeve and points at the uniformed figures guarding the door. _“Goblins,”_ he whispers. It’s the first word he’s spoken since breakfast.

“Looks that way,” Claire whispers back. She feels the goblins’ hostile gazes on her back as Tom accepts the bag of heavy coins, and she’s very glad when they move on to the bookshop. 

She has to admit that Flourish and Blotts, with its floor-to-ceiling shelves and cloth-bound tomes and pleasantly spicy smell, is quite charming. The young black man behind the desk introduces himself as Dean, and smiles when she hands him the booklist. “Starting at Hogwarts, are we?” He nods at something over Claire’s shoulder. “I’d tell your boy not to mess about with that book, if I were you. It bites when provoked.”

She glances back. Eddie has drifted away from her to inspect a thick volume bound in green leather and belted shut securely. Tom, meanwhile, is inspecting what looks like an entire shelf of books about shape-shifting. She’s been shopping with him plenty of times in the past, and knows his history with new and interesting bookshops. Some things never change.

One of the other customers crosses the room with a dramatic whirl of her blue velvet cloak, and speaks to Dean in a stage whisper. “I would advise you to keep him away from all of your merchandise, shopkeep. You never know where Mudblood hands have been.”

Claire rounds on her. “What did you say?” She’s never heard the word “Mudblood” before, but knows that it can’t mean anything good. “Apologize to my son.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

Tom has joined them. “Because she asked you to.”

“Pointless Muggle blather,” the woman in the blue cloak sneers.

“Oi!” Dean rises to his feet. “Apologize right now, or leave and don’t come back.” The woman in the blue cloak mutters something about filth sticking together and vanishes out the door. “I’m sorry about that. We still get a few old-fashioned folks that look down on anyone who isn’t descended from magical bloodlines. I promise that it happens rarely, though.” 

“Thank you for speaking up for us,” Claire manages.

“Just wish I didn’t have to.” Dean forces a grin. “Let’s see about those first-year spellbooks. I can also recommend a history of Muggle-wizard relations, if you’d like. Remember,” he says to Eddie, “you’re just as much of a wizard as any of your classmates, and don’t let anybody tell you differently. It doesn’t matter who your family is.”

Claire and Tom exchange a glance. “With all due respect,” he says, “I think it does.”

\-- 

Mr. Ollivander, the ancient wand-maker, seems to know where to find every item in his stock despite a truly remarkable lack of order. While he rummages through the stacks and towers of boxes, he explains how he constructs his wands, how each is unique and always chooses the one who is best suited to wield it. “So, for instance, young man” – he turns his pale eyes on Eddie – “if you were to borrow your brother’s wand, you would be able to channel magic just as surely as with your own, but the results would be… unpredictable.”

“Even if we –“ Eddie begins, and then glances at his parents. Claire nods her permission, hoping that she won’t regret this. “Even when we swap places?”

“How do you mean?” Ollivander asks, tilting his head slowly.

“I can see wherever Harry is. He can see wherever I am. We can share memories, too, if we try really hard.” The words tumble from Eddie’s mouth. “Can all wizards do that?”

“Would you be willing to favor me with a demonstration?”

“It’s all right. Go ahead and show him.” She gives each of their shoulders a final squeeze before releasing them. “We want to see.”

\--

_Two years ago, the boys had been fighting over a videogame controller when it shorted out, sending the entire house into darkness. Claire fumbled for torches and candles, cursing repeatedly when she knocked into things. “Mummy said a bad word,” Eddie observed._

_“I bet we’re not supposed to say that at school, right?” Harry asked._

_“That’s right.” Claire rubbed her sore knee._

_He nodded solemnly. “There are lots of things we’re not supposed to say.”_

_She descended into the basement to fiddle in vain with the fuse box, and hurried back up the stairs before she could think about wine cellars and catacombs, and scolded herself for her childish fears. Later, she admitted to herself that she half expected to find Tom gone – physically or otherwise – when she got there._

_Instead, everybody was who they were supposed to be. Everything should have been all right._

_After the boys dropped off to sleep, she asked quietly, “Whose turn is it to say ‘It’s just a coincidence’? Or ‘The electricity goes off all the time, all over the world, without any help from –‘”_

_“This isn’t the first time, Claire. We can’t assume anything, either way.” In the flickering candlelight, her husband had never looked more like the creature that the boys still called “Uncle Billy,” but who called himself by another name: Mr. Hyde. In the end, at least, they’d known how to keep him in line, and what to expect from him, as well as anybody could. “We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”_

\--

“There’s something that we have to talk to you both about,” Tom says over dinner that night. The twins have been chattering about the enchanted joke shop that they passed by, about what they’re going to name their new owl, about what Houses they might be in. “Before you leave for school.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Is this about _girls_? ‘Cause we’ve known how that goes for –“

“I bet it’s not.” Harry seems a little livelier since the long afternoon that they spent in Ollivander’s shop, discarding one wand after another… or being discarded by them. It’s as if sharing his brother’s consciousness has restored some of his own confidence. “I bet they’re going to talk about how we have to be _careful_.”

“We’re not five anymore,” Eddie jumps in. “We can do magic. We’re going to be living with other people like us. You don’t need to worry.”

“I expect that we’ll always worry about you.” Tom tries to keep his voice light. “Part of our job. We don’t want to scare you, though.” Claire suspects that he’s thinking back to the night that Harry set the fire... or perhaps even further back than that. “You shouldn’t have to be frightened of yourselves.”

Claire spent a long time trying to rebuild a normal life, but she’s starting to believe that, for people like them, “normal” can mean whatever they want it to mean. Her own life began under extraordinary circumstances, after all, and her children are wizards who may or may not have inherited their father’s tendency to transform into something more than human: more powerful, more dangerous, and more valuable to the people who would kill to possess their secrets. “We’d rather you knew our family’s whole story,” she says, and looks over at Tom again. “Do you want to start, Dr. Jekyll, or shall I?”


End file.
